WHA????!!!

Holy shit!!!

It’s snowing in Belfast!!!

WTF????

I keep trying to run away but y’all keep bringin’ me back!

Yes. I took away this shit-tacular blog for a day.

Why?

Cuz I thought I’d get in trouble or some such shit.

But Fuck Em!!!!

The email I posted (yesterday?) is 100% true. The company I work for is 100% full of assholes. The reason I’m going fucking insane is 100% the fault of the fucktards I work for.

Little lesson people: If your job blows and sucks at the same time, for god’s sake just GO. Seriously. Leave. Never look back. And though you’d like to tell the fat, overweight, wife/girlfriend cheating-ass-sucking-piece-of-shit-cock-licking-blowhard that you hate with every single ounce of your being that you want to kill/maim/cripple everyone one of their immediate family… DON’T DO IT!

Just leave.

That’s what I plan to do.

In the meantime the fuckers still pay my wages.

GOD I HATE THEM!!!!!!!!

I’m Sooooo Heading for a Reality Check

I know. I know.

I’m probably jinxing myself even more (Pinch! Poke! You owe me a Coke!) but sometimes the heavens just open up and down comes the most laughable, ironic email that has been sent around our little happy fun fun workplace in quite awhile. It comes from the same toss-pot that sent the email about sending potentially “offensive” shit to the other cunts in the company.

(Perhaps a bit of a backstory. YYYYYY is known throughout our company to be the biggest crybaby EVAR! (and, yes, that includes me). He’s recently been walking around the studio like a pregnant princess (he recently quit smoking and has gained at LEAST 40 pounds since then. Big fat bastard…)))
Anyway, right or wrong observe this email from the financial/fucktard director who accidentally sent this to EVERYONE IN THE COMPANY only days after warning us about sending shit that might totally fucking offend people:

XXXX and XXXXX

Looks like YYYYY is raising this old chestnut again (back pain due to shitty chairs), this time with XXXXXX. I watched YYYYYY hobble around today but am unsure whether it was genuine or just put on for me as I was in the room at the time. The chair he refers to is £110 which is about £30 more than we normally pay for chairs. We could get him this to simply shut him up and keep him productive as I can smell a sickness period coming on again (he was off for a week last week. The risk is that we open the flood gates for everyone to demand a new chair for the same reasons.)

My feeling is that we make it obvious that he is to be treated as a special circumstance (a bit like the special glasses scenario a few years ago) (I have no idea what this shit is about. “Special Glasses”??? Does YYYYY have fucking X-ray vision that the rest of us don’t know about???) ,and keep him productive.

One hour of his time is £90 so the cost of getting him a different chair is significantly less than the loss of him out on the sick again.

What are your feelings on this issue?

Oh man. I have SOOOOOO much to say about all this.

But I’ll save it for another time.

Because the shit is going to hit the fan very, very soon…

I’m Not Sick, I’m Sincere…

I’ve been off “work” since last Friday.

If I’m honest with myself, I’d have to say I’ve been off work since the day I started.

I FUCKING HATE ADVERTISING!

(I didn’t say that out loud. My boss might be listening.)

Anyway stress, or lack of mental capability or whatever you want to call it, finally crippled me. I’ve had a cough (a “deep something-or-the-other chest-al type infection” which has gripped and shook and strangled me) that only a strong anti-biotical-type drug thingy will cure. I’m taking it now. It’s tasteless. It’s a capsule… It seems to be working…

I’ve made a list of the things I’m going to/have accomplish/ed whilst I’m out.

This is the list so far:

Read:

“Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by Philip K. Dick. (Done. Got at least 5 other books now to read before Christmas. My will shall be done…)

Watch(ed):

“It’s a Wonderful Life.” (done)

“Elf” (also done)

“Match Point” (Woody Allen) (done again)

“Spiderman III” (oh yeah, done)

“Life of Brian” (fell asleep… like I always do. Why is that?) (still…done)

This is it, folks. (Not really. Got tons of other movies and books to see/read. Not a chance I’ll be bored.)

I’m a boring S.O.B.

A sick S.O.B. but an S.O.B. nonetheless.

I’m gonna listen to my iPod and sleep now, even though it’s only 2 in the afternoon.

Take care, peeps.

Happy/Merry Christmas…

You Money Makers Make Me Sick

Wow.

It’s been like a month since I posted.

That’s because my boss (and, yes, I know y’all are cringing at this moment cuz you’ve heard it all before) is a total asshole.

This is what the last 2 weeks have given me:

1.)A private meeting with said “asshole” in which he told me that I and I alone was responsible for the company being 2 weeks behind in a major pitch process. I was too angry to point out that all my work was, in all actuality, done and dusted and that it was the creative director he should be focusing his anger upon. This meant nothing to anyone. I took the blame. Hi “blame”. Nice to meet you.

2.) A second meeting where the fat son of a bitch threatened my job in front of most of the company and then excused me from said meeting. His reason for threatening me? I didn’t change some copy that he said was fine. No. You read that right. I didn’t change something he didn’t tell me to change.

I must be some kind of fucking idiot.

Anyway. My job has been threatened and so I need to leave.

Let me just say this…

No. Never mind. Can’t really say what I want.

Until I get a new job.

Then I’ll spill the beans.

Oh, yeah. Spilllllllll…………..

The Money Is So Irrelevant

My wife is busy working away in the kitchen.

She’s making dinner (Oh, God…roast chicken. My favorite) AND she’s doing actual work…work.

Yes, she’s working on her own time. I think she’s doing something on Excel or something (I only use Word… if I attempt to use any other MS product I spontaneously combust and/or just don’t do whatever it is somebody has supposedly asked me to do. I work in WORDS people. Not some shitty mathematical universe that let’s people know their work schedules. That’s just stupid.

Anyway, my beautiful wife is working away and it just struck me: I make a LOT more than she does. Oh, I’ve worked the very occasional weekend and late night but what I physically output is NOTHING compared the shit she has to put up with.

I sort of feel guilty.

And…

I sort of don’t care.

After all, I gotta put up with Fat Boy and the advertising ilk that makes my skin crawl.

I’m probably underpaid.

(But not as much as my wife. God help her…)

Let Us See… Shall We???

Even though I am want to use totally too much of those thingys that come after sentences (you know! Like exclamation marks and question marks and that kind of shit. What, for the love of God, are they called??? Oh yeah!!!! PUNCTUATION MARKS!!!! (gotta get more sleep this weekend)) I will say that I’m trying something tonight that, judging by the look on my wife’s face when I bought it, might just send me to an early grave.

The culprit?

A canned (“tinned” for my UK readers) steak pie.

Oh yeah, baby.

This thing comes packaged in a tin can type gizmo. All I have to do is “cook” it in the oven for like 30 minutes. It even has OXO gravy!! (Look it up if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

So far, it smells pretty good.

I’ll give you a full report later.

If I survive.

I’m Reeeeeeeling….

Today I savored, licked, smiled smugly, shit confidently, walked oh-so-goddamn-proudly out of a fucking stupid-as-shit ‘informational’ meeting with an “Oh-yeah, asshole?” smile on my face.

It practically sent me to the emergency room. (These kind o’ smiles don’t come easy, Skippy!)

My smile was so goddamn well deserved.

Oh, I can’t divulge the details.

Let’s just say that my work… well it WORKED.

And it was a great moment. Especially since my boss wanted rid of me.

Maybe I’ll go pro after all this.

Maybe there’s a world where I freelance, make assloads of cash, and live a pretty fucking happy life.

Maybe…

But for now…

Oh Jebus, today was a fine fucking slap up the assboss face.

It’ feels pretty good.

It proves I’m good.

That’s all I ever wanted.

And, now that I’ve jinxed myself for the rest of my natural born life, I shall go to bed.

Nature vs. All Those Other Assholes…

I have two VERY strong views on the subject of picking up dog shit in a grocery bag just because it’s the so-called “law”:

1. It’s gross.

2. I won’t pick it up.

Let’s look at it subjectively: Dog shit is natural.

And completely fucking disgusting… but whatever.

Unfortunately, it (the dog shit) (eventually) dissolves into a brown smudge that our so-called “lawnmower” (it’s an electric ‘hover-type-bullshit (well, I guess I mean ‘dog shit’)-crappy-lawn mowing-type-whatever’) will never in a million years scatter and/or chop up to my ultimate satifaction. My thinking is that, unattended, it (the dog shit) will still melt into the grass after a good solid rain storm (that’s how it works…right?).

Also, I had many other humorous points but I can’t remember what they were or, if in fact, they were humorous.

Goodnight.

Dog shit rules!!!

A Little Insight

Anybody whose anybody who reads this shit blog won’t be surprised when I say this:

I’m either Obsessive-Compulsive, Manic-Depressive, or simply, “full of shit”.

For the sake of argument, I’m gonna go with the Manic-Depressive diagnosis because I’ve been on the dopey drugs under Doctor’s ORDERS (who said I was probably MANIC DEPRESSIVE) (and, yes, they do work- if you like feeling like you’re underwater under the influence of a drug that makes the thought of being underwater and drowning an ‘ok-why-the-hell-why-not’ feeling’ ok.)

So this is my statement for today: I’m tired.

But boy howdy did I have a LOT to say… until I forgot it all cuz I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with tomorrow and for the next week.

The point is… stay tuned.

I’m gonna let y’all know why everything’s been weird lately.

It’ll probably bore ya.

Tough shit!

(Oh, and now I’m watching ‘Return of the Jedi’. Talk about editing your legacy….)